


This Warm Prism

by HerBespokeCurse



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:52:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerBespokeCurse/pseuds/HerBespokeCurse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magic in Storybrooke has all kinds of unpredictable consequences. Emma gets the surprise of her life—for the second time. (Yes, it’s Magical Baby fic.)</p><p>Leaves canon behind at the end of S1 and picks up about six months later.  Established Swan Queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red

Regina fiddled with the mantle clock in her study. She’d set it the day Henry had given it to her—Mother’s Day, the year he was seven—and it had kept perfect time for years. But magic had done something to it. The day Emma had brought Henry home from the hospital, Regina had realized that it was running _backwards_. That had stopped, but no matter how often she set the clock, it no longer seemed able to properly keep time. It was one of her favorite things in this room, but she was verging on throwing it into the crackling fire, so annoyed was she by the visual reminder of how time passing actually felt. The hours alone in the big empty house could drag on until she thought she’d go crazy, but the days turned into weeks and months faster than she could keep track of them.

“You!”

Regina was generally unmoved by the woman storming through her closed study door without knocking or observing any kind of protocol whatsoever. That behavior had been typical for as long as they’d known each other. For someone so private, Emma didn’t have a particularly strong sense of personal space, and it had only gotten worse since she’d moved in. It was the rage in Emma’s voice that raised Regina’s eyebrows. That was something she hadn’t heard in quite a while.

“You did this to me!” Emma roared as she approached the middle of the room where Regina stood. Her color was high, the red in her cheeks nearly as intense as that of the jacket she still wore.

Regina cocked her head. “Did what, dear?”

Emma scoffed. “Oh, I think we both know. I mean, are you kidding me, Regina? This is completely crossing every line, every boundary. I thought we were past this shit, at least with you and me. I’ve stood for you over and over again. How could you think that—”

“Emma.” Regina enunciated each syllable of the name very clearly, as if it were an incantation to still the other woman. “I think you should tell me what it is we’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about being pregnant, you… you fucking… _witch_.” She spat the last word like poison, but that wasn’t the word that rang in Regina’s ears.

Her eyes wide, she echoed, “Pregnant?”

Emma could see from the look on the other woman’s face that her surprise was genuine, but she refused to let it register. Emma was furious, and that feeling was filling her up, keeping at bay all the other things that threatened to come flooding in if she let the fury go. “Yes, _Your Majesty_ , I’m pregnant. I don’t know what you’re planning or what kind of fucking voodoo you had to do, but it worked. I’m pregnant and fuck, Regina, you didn’t even _ask_ me.” Emma’s eyes were shiny with tears when she stopped, and Regina could see her working her jaw, willing them not to fall.

Regina shook her head, just once. “I didn’t—” and then she stopped herself, her lips curved into a strange kind of smile.

“What?” Emma demanded.

“You’re pregnant.” Regina’s tone was as inscrutable as the expression on her face.

“That’s funny to you?”

“No, it’s just… you’re pregnant and I’m—“ Regina held her hands out to her sides, gesturing to indicate her own very feminine body. “Shouldn’t I be the one who’s angry?”

Emma was incredulous. “Oh, you’ve got to be— I’m with my father or our son all day. I’m in your bed every night. When would I possibly have time?”

It wasn’t an outright denial, and the recognition of that hit Regina so hard that she had to sit. She stared at her own hands. She twisted the ring on her right hand so that the emerald was on the inside, clenched her fist, and focused on the stone where it bit into her palm. When she spoke, her voice was small even to her own ears, as if she was speaking from very far away. “When people want to, they find the time.”

She felt Emma flop onto the sofa next to her. “Well, I didn’t,” Emma insisted. “I wouldn’t.” Regina felt green eyes boring into her, and she lifted her gaze to meet them for just a moment. Emma’s surprise and anger were easily evident, but it was the fear flickering behind them that made Regina certain she was being told the truth. Emma’s voice wavered as she spoke again. “Y-you really didn’t do this? I just was so surprised, and then I thought…”

“Magic,” Regina finished for her. “You remember what I told you? About magic here?”

“Unpredictable, yeah. I’ve noticed.”

Regina stared across the room at the window. She thought of the window upstairs, where she had stood so many months ago and watched the purple fog roll over the town. She had smiled then, feeling her power returned to her. She hadn’t had any idea how things would change. “It’s everywhere here,” she said, almost to herself. “Like an infection.”

“So maybe it just… got away from you?” Emma suggested, but Regina was already shaking her head before the thought was even completed.

“Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t do that.” Emma’s brow furrowed, and Regina realized she’d have to explain. She spoke slowly, choosing each word carefully. “I never learned how. I did try, once. Before. I thought I could… use such a skill. The ability to create a child and ensure the desired parentage would have been extraordinarily valuable. But I was told it could not be done.”

Emma let out a short, sardonic laugh. “I think someone lied to you.”

Regina shrugged. “Maybe. It wouldn’t be the first time.” Even before, she’d never met anyone who could match her skill, but there were always those who were more knowledgeable. It occurred to her that there still was one person who might be able to provide them with an explanation. She studied Emma’s face. “You haven’t… seen him, have you?”

“Not for months. It’s not like it was, Regina. He’s not any better off than you.”

“Emma,” Regina said with quiet intensity. Fear creased her forehead. She raised a hand to stroke Emma’s face, thumb drawing over her cheekbone.  “You cannot see him,” she said, more a plea than a command.

Emma nodded easily. “Fine. No love lost there.”

Panic bloomed hotly in Regina’s chest. She was terrified that Emma didn't understand how serious the situation was. “Emma, I mean it. When he hears about this he  _will_ try to trick you. You cannot speak to him. No messages. Nothing. Please, Emma.”

Emma grasped Regina’s hand in both of her own, pulling it down to her lap. She smoothed both thumbs across the back of Regina’s hand, just above the knuckles, drawing twin swaths of reassurance. “Regina. The man tried to kill our son. Not to mention you. And I doubt he’d shed any tears for me. I promise you, I’m not going anywhere near the bastard.” All the flippancy was gone from Emma’s voice, and Regina let out a breath of relief.

“There’s something else,” Regina said slowly. When she hesitated, Emma squeezed her hand in encouragement. “You’re not going to like it. I need to go to him.”

Regina was right; Emma didn’t like that at all. She yanked her hands from Regina’s and stared at her, horrified. “No! Absolutely not.”

“Emma,” Regina started, but Emma cut her off.

“You just got done telling me how important it was to stay away. How dangerous he is, like I could ever forget. You think I’m about to let you walk into that same danger?”

“But it’s not the same danger,” Regina argued. “I’m not carrying a child.”

At that turn of phrase, Emma froze. “A child,” she said, as though the idea had not occurred to her.

“Yes, Emma,” Regina said with a forced patience. “The condition of pregnancy generally results in a child.”

“No, I know, I just didn’t—we’re going to have a baby.” For the first time since she’d spoken with Dr. Whale that morning, Emma found herself trying to picture the two of them with a baby.

“Yes,” Regina agreed. “You are. But we don’t know how, which means we don’t know why. And that leaves all of us vulnerable. Especially the child. If we have any chance of protecting it, I need to speak to him.”

Emma had learned enough about the dark little man in the last months to know that this was true. The idea of Regina having an audience with him made her want to be sick, but she knew that now that the idea was in Regina’s head, there was little to be done to dissuade her. Emma sighed. “Okay. You’ll go. But you have to promise me something. No deals.”

“Not with him,” Regina agreed. “I promise. Does…” she struggled for the right name. “Does your mother know?”

“Not yet.”

“Don’t wait too long to tell her,” Regina said firmly. Emma looked at her with surprise. “She’ll be hurt if she figures it out before you do—and believe me, she will figure it out.”

“All right,” Emma agreed with a small smile at Regina’s concern not for what Snow would do, but for what she would feel. She was trying, but generosity of spirit was still a very new color on Regina, and the former queen shifted uncomfortably under it for a moment.

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. “She’ll blame me, no doubt.” She was Mayor Mills again, her voice measured with just a hint of snark around the edges.

“She won’t,” Emma insisted. It probably wasn’t true, but arguing with that voice was like a reflex.

“You did,” Regina reminded her.

Emma made a face. “Yeah, well, _I_ get to make crazy assumptions. _I_ have baby hormones.”


	2. White

The terms of Regina’s house arrest were very specific about who could escort her off the property. Emma wanted to do it herself, but Regina insisted that it was crucial that they follow the rules. Once they decided to ask, it only took one phone call from Emma and surprisingly little convincing to get David to agree to help them.

They were gone for nearly two hours. Emma tried to distract herself by helping Henry with his homework and putting dinner in the oven, but when she heard David’s truck pulling up in front of the big white house, she was immediately on her feet and out the front door. By the time he parked and came around the front of the vehicle to open the passenger-side door, she had made it to the sidewalk.

“What happened? Is she okay?”

“I’m fine,” Regina insisted, shrugging off David’s hand at her elbow, but her face was drawn and, even in heels that let her tower over Emma, she seemed somehow diminished. “I’m just tired.”

Emma slid an arm around Regina’s waist and looked to her father for confirmation. David simply shrugged. “I couldn’t go in with her,” he said apologetically. “That place is like a fortress. But she’s not hurt.”

“I said I’m fine,” Regina said through gritted teeth. She looked Emma up and down, taking in the tank top and bare feet. “But it is freezing out here. You need to get inside, dear.”

“In a minute,” Emma said, nudging at the small of Regina’s back. “You go. Henry’s setting the table.” She wrapped her arms around herself as she watched Regina stride toward the house. Once the other woman was out of earshot, she asked, “Did she say anything?”

David shook his head. “She just asked me to bring her home. Emma, what is going on?”

“I will tell you, I promise. Jut not yet.”

David tried to look stern, but the way Emma looked up at him sideways melted his resolve, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders instead. “You know I trust you. But I’m hoping you won’t ask me to do this again, Em. It’s dangerous.”

“I know," she said, sounding like a harangued teenager. "Thank you, Dad.”

He grinned down at her. “Do me a favor and don’t mention this to your mother? She’ll kill me.”

Emma brought her fingers to her forehead in a lazy mock salute. “No names, no pack drill.”

He gave her shoulders another little squeeze. “Now go inside, it is freezing. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Emma agreed, and watched him climb into his truck before heading inside to where dinner and her family were waiting.

*****

As soon as he’d finished eating, Regina excused Henry from the table. “You don’t have to clear tonight. You can go watch television.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why?”

“Really, kid? You like helping with the dishes that much?” Emma teased.

Henry flicked his gaze back and forth between his mothers. “Is this about where Mom went this afternoon?” He didn’t miss the look the women gave each other at that. Having two parents was weird. It wasn’t like they kept secrets, exactly, although sometimes there was that, too. It was more like they had something that was just about the two of them and not about Henry at all. That had irked him when he first noticed it, but more and more, he found that it made him feel safe, like there was more holding their family together than just him.

“Henry, _go_ ,” Regina pressed, leaving no more room for argument. He pushed away from the table with an exaggerated sigh, but Emma caught his eye and winked at him, eliciting a grin as he left the dining room.

Emma fidgeted, waiting until she heard the television come on in the next room before asking, “What took you so long? Felt like you were gone forever.”

“It took me a while to get to him. Belle was supposed to help, but when she found out it was I and not David who wanted in...” she rolled her eyes rather than finishing the explanation. “Typical.”

“Sorry.” She wasn’t sure what for, exactly. Emma knew that Regina had little right to ask anything of anyone, but it still bothered her to see people reject the woman at every turn.

Regina shrugged. “David was no help at all, either. Maybe you should have come after all.”

“You know I don’t have that kind of magic.”

“Don’t you?” Regina took another sip of wine and raised one eyebrow at Emma over the rim of the glass.

Emma ignored that. "And you didn't make any deals?"

"Just like we agreed," Regina assured her.

“Regina,” she said, losing her patience. “What did he say?”

“Almost nothing. He knows of it happening one other time.”

“And it’s… magical?” Emma prompted.

“Apparently.” This was directed at the far wall. Regina was always hard to read, not least because she usually had about sixteen things going on underneath the surface of whatever she was saying or doing, but this degree of reticence was unusual even for her. It was starting to scare Emma a bit.

“Could you just tell me?” She waited for Regina to look at her before she continued. “Whatever it is that you’re trying not to say?”

Regina dropped her eyes and nodded, taking a deep breath before speaking. “He said that in… before, the only spontaneous magic was that which was the result of true love. There was one child rumored to have been conceived because of such spontaneous magic. They said that her parents’ love for each other was strong enough to create new life, even when it shouldn’t have otherwise been possible. It was only a rumor,” she clarified. “But he has ways of knowing when things are false, and that wasn’t the way he spoke about this.” She looked up at Emma when she finished. The blonde was never the quickest to put things together, and Regina could almost see the idea coalescing in her mind.

“True love, huh?” It wasn’t something they had talked about, ever, at least not in those terms. But when Emma thought about it, in the succession of things they’d shared—child, town, home, bed—why shouldn’t love come next? The fluttery, excited flush of new love that she remembered from her few formative attempts at relationships would feel ridiculous now, but there was this other thing she’d been trying to put a name to. It was a feeling that this thing with Regina was the thing that made everything that had ever happened in her life make sense. It was the way Regina seemed to sit on the edges of Emma’s thoughts, even when her thoughts were just about mundane little things like what to order for lunch. And it was the oddly serene confidence that what they had would be permanent, even when it was messy or ugly. It was inevitable, like gravity. If that was true love, then... _oh_.

She studied Regina, who was trying hard to look Emma in the eye but kept dropping her gaze to Emma’s mouth. Emma looked for the truth of her next thought, which was the memory of the first thing Regina had explained to her about true love—really magical, curse-breaking love. In the fading light of that day, the worst day, Regina had told her that true love, in order to be true love, always had to be returned.

“You love me back,” she said, unable to keep the hint of triumph out of her voice.

Regina pursed her lips and stuttered a half-hearted attempt at mitigation. “Things are different here. It could—“

“No,” Emma cut her off, grinning and very sure of herself. “You love me back.”

Regina couldn’t help herself—she returned the smile. “Well, all right, then.”

*****

In their bed that night, Emma lay on her back under the white sheet, dancing her fingers like tiny legs across her still-flat abdomen. Regina was next to her, curled on her side, not touching Emma, just watching. “You said I didn’t ask you.”

Emma’s fingers stopped mid-twirl, and she turned her head to look at Regina. “What?”

“Before, when you thought I’d done it? You said that I didn’t ask you.”

Emma sighed. “Well, you didn’t ask me. You have to admit it’s a shitty thing to do to someone without their consent.”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t do it.”

“No.”

“That’s all I meant,” Emma said dismissively, turning away again.

Regina was quiet for a moment, tempted to let the subject drop, but she found the question burning in her chest. She had to know. “Would you have? If I’d asked?”

 “Let you… knock me up?” she smirked.

Regina sighed at the willful crassness. “Yes.”

Emma thought for a moment, squinting up at the ceiling. She considered their situation. It was much too soon, for one thing. It had only been half a year that she’d been in this house, less time than that since they’d been anything resembling a couple. But the other thing—the love that suddenly felt overwhelming now that she knew it was returned—made her reluctant to say no. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Would you have asked?”

“I didn’t know it was an option,” Regina reminded her. She swallowed hard, and when she spoke again it was almost a whisper. “You don’t have to do it, you know.”

Emma looked at her, eyes wide with surprise. “Regina—”

“No, I mean it. I can make you an appointment. It can be taken care of tomorrow—if you want.”

“You don’t want it,” Emma guessed, tears springing to her eyes. She felt stupid, mentally berating herself for believing that Regina, so fixated on order and with the scope of her control now so small, could possibly accept something as life-altering as a new baby without meticulously planning every aspect.

“I _do_ want it,” Regina said with a fierceness that made Emma feel all prickly. “But I’m saying that you have a choice here. I’ve seen— _made_ people do things without being given a choice. I don’t want to do that again. I especially don’t want to do it to you.”

“Hey,” Emma rolled toward Regina so that they were face to face. “Nobody’s making me do anything.”

“We didn’t make a plan for this. We could wait until we’re ready.”

“And when will that be?”

Regina was silent

“This is, you know, insane. The timing is terrible. But come on, a magic baby? Who knows when we’ll get a chance like this again? And I just think…”

“What?”

Emma wrapped her hands around one of Regina’s, her thumbs stroking it almost imperceptibly. “There are so many things to make right. And I know you think that means you need to be punished. But maybe this is _how_ we make it right. By doing something new. Something good.”

“And the price?” More than anything, Regina wished that the monstrous man had not reminded her that there were some truths in the world that were absolute, and one of them was that nothing good ever came without cost.

“Loving a kid? Magic or not, there’s always a risk you’re gonna get hurt. Henry’s proof enough of that—for both of us. Has it ever not been worth it?”

Regina shook her head. “Of course not.”

“Well, all right, then.”


	3. Green

Emma sat in the Nolans’ cheery kitchen, one leg drawn up so that her chin rested on her knee. Cocoa had sounded good when her mother offered it, but when Snow placed it on the table in front of her, the smell of the hot milk and cinnamon turned her stomach. She reached as if to pick it up but when Snow turned her back, she surreptitiously pushed the mug further away.

“So are you going to tell me or are you going to make me guess?” Snow asked over her shoulder.

“I thought I’d wait until you sat down, at least.”

Snow tilted her head as she turned back toward the table, carrying her own cocoa. “That sounds bad. Is it bad?”

“It’s...” Emma had practiced this in the mirror, but now she couldn’t remember a single word that she had planned to say. Finally, she took a breath and managed to get out the important part. “I’m pregnant.”

Snow blinked at her, very slowly. “I didn’t know that was something you were, ah, planning?”

“We weren’t,” Emma mumbled.

“I’m sorry, we are still talking about you and Regina, right?”

“It just kind of happened… magically.”

Snow choked on a mouthful of cocoa, her ears turning so red that Emma worried she might be having an allergic reaction to it. “Magically?” she sputtered.

“I guess it’s a thing that happens.”

Snow pinched her lips into a tight line and tapped at them with the fingertips of one hand. “Really?”

“I guess. What do I know?”

“You and… Regina.”

“Yup.” Emma puffed out her cheeks. This was turning out to be every bit as awkward as she’d expected—maybe even more so. She scratched at the embroidered tablecloth and waited for Snow to process that information. Snow made a shuddery, high-pitched noise, and when Emma looked up at her mother, it took a moment to realize that she wasn’t crying. She was laughing.

Snow was laughing so hard that her whole body shook. The hand over her mouth moved to cover her eyes instead, and Emma saw a single tear slide from behind Snow’s fingers. Emma leaned back in her chair, staring. She had guessed that Snow would be upset. She had been prepared for scolding, for shouting, for sobbing, but this? This was fully creeping her out.

After a minute, Snow took a few long, shaky breaths, clearly trying to compose herself. When she saw Emma’s stricken face, she reached across the table to take her daughter’s hand. “Oh, Emma, I am sorry, truly. I’m not laughing at you. I’m sorry.” This was followed by another burst of nervous giggling.

“It’s okay,” Emma reassured her. “People get weird when they get a shock.” She’d seen it often enough to know this was true, but Emma found that even saying it out loud did nothing to quell the little curl of hurt feelings that was squeezing her throat shut.

“It is a shock,” Snow conceded. “But I’m sorry anyway.”

Snow was guarded about her feelings about Regina, especially when Henry was around, which was most of the time. That was exactly why Emma had left him at home. If anybody was going to talk her out of this, it was going to be Snow. And it was going to be now.

“I know you think it’s a bad idea.”

“I think it’s not the choice I would make for you,” Snow countered. “But it’s not my choice to make.”

“She’s a good mom.” Emma didn’t know why she was trying so hard to pick a fight, but the little flash in Snow’s eyes at that was remarkably satisfying.

She wasn’t taking the bait, though. “Henry’s a special boy. He’s been good for her. So have you. And true love, well...”

 “Who said anything about love?” Emma snapped. It was one thing to hear Regina say it, but it was quite another to hear the words in her mother’s mouth, wrapped in what sounded quite a bit like skepticism.

Snow put her hands up. “No, no one. You’re right.”

The apologetic tone made Emma regret the implied lie. “I mean, I do, actually,” she confessed. “Love her.”

With a small, sad smile, Snow nodded. “I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” Snow said, almost pleading. “Don’t be. Don’t be sorry for that.”

“I didn’t mean to. Love her. But she’s different now, I think. Or she wants to be.”

“Anyone can change their life, Emma. You did,” Snow reminded her, squeezing her hand.

Emma squeezed back and wondered how true that really was.

*****

When Emma had mentioned to David that Regina was bored and restless, trapped inside the house as the weather turned colder and wet, he had sent home a few particularly bothersome files for the former mayor to work on. He had been trained to be a king, not a mayor, and in this realm his knowledge had all kinds of gaps that Regina had had decades to fill. Regina had blown through the work in an afternoon, making changes in her precise handwriting and leaving carefully instructive notes on almost every page. Although she hadn’t told Emma to ask for more to do, she was pleased to find that every few days, when the finished work disappeared, more was left in its place. It wasn’t exactly what she’d done as mayor, and it was still lonely, but it was satisfying, it passed the time, and while no one spoke of it, Regina knew that the steady stream of work was a silent vote of confidence.

Work for the mayor’s office was what she was doing when she found, toward the bottom of a stack of files, a slim blue folder labeled with her own address. She frowned as she flipped it open. The work was all complete, and so meticulously well done that Regina wondered if she herself hadn’t already worked on it without noticing. It was the content that made absolutely no sense. It appeared to be an amendment to the property line, moving it back to include a large swath of the woods behind the house. Clipped to the back cover of the folder, after the very last page, she found a note.

_Things will be green again soon._  
Thought you might like a walk in the woods.   
–D

It was signed with the round, swooping initial she associated with David’s signature. Regina worried her bottom lip between her teeth, wondering if it was worth holding on to the initial prideful indignation that made her want to sneer at the gift. After all, she reasoned, surely she deserved something in return for all the work she’d been doing. The town would probably have been falling apart at the seams otherwise. A glance out the window at the woods which were indeed beginning to look distinctly green made up her mind.

She found her favorite wool coat in the hall closet and let herself out through the sliding glass door at the back of the house. She intended to find out what was encompassed by the new property line and if there were any indication of the boundary once she was out in the woods, but she quickly came to a clearing that gave her pause. It was just deep enough into the woods that the house was no longer visible through the trees, and large enough that an oblong of clear blue sky could be seen where the treetops didn’t quite meet.

Without really thinking about it, she directed a few small bursts of flame to clear away some of the thicker underbrush. The persistent tingling itch at the place where her fingers met her palms lessened a bit when she did that, so she threw a few more flames toward the sky. An idea occurred to her, and she began to move her hands through the air with more purpose. She lifted and rotated stones, directing trees and vines with a crook of her finger, and coaxed flowers out of the ground that weren’t native to Maine—or anywhere, really. Inside her modern home, magic meant exploding light bulbs and slamming doors that shook the whole house, but the natural world was rather more forgiving. She gained momentum as she worked, transforming the clearing into a wild sort of garden.

Behind her, she heard a soft, “Wow,” and whirled, a little out of breath, to see Emma at the edge of the clearing. Her arms were shoved into the too-tight sleeves of a blue pleather jacket that hung open around her protruding abdomen. “You did this?” Emma asked, stepping toward her.  “This is amazing.”

“I have a great many talents, Princess,” Regina replied evenly.

Emma smirked. “I’m aware.” She took in the rough stone bench, shaded by an arbor of interlaced trees. “This isn’t going to start singing or dancing or anything, is it?”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Fucking Disney,” she breathed. “You’re safe.” She watched as Emma lowered herself onto the stone slab. The blonde visibly relaxed when it didn’t shift under her weight.

“What’s all this for, anyway?” Emma asked.

“Henry always liked being outside, the park. Even when he was tiny.” She came to sit beside Emma. “If the little one takes after you at all, she’ll mutilate our yard. I thought I’d need a place to bring her.”

“You’re really good at this.”

Regina blinked in surprise at the open compliment. “Landscaping?”

“The kid stuff. Knowing what they need.” Regina looked at her sharply, wondering where Emma got that. But Emma appeared completely absorbed in her own thoughts. Tears in her eyes were threatening to spill over. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“Of course you can.”

Emma shook her head. “I look at Henry and he’s incredible. And it’s completely you. You did that. The only thing I’ve ever known for sure about raising kids is that I have no idea how to do it.”

“There’s no secret. No one gives you an instruction manual. It’s really just an alarming amount of guessing.”

Emma pushed at her tears with the heel of her hand. “That’s… not even a little bit reassuring.”

Regina shrugged. “So you’ll fail.”

“What the hell, Regina?” Emma threw up her hands.

“If you don’t know what you’re doing, it stands to reason that you’re going to fail,” Regina said, as if she were explaining a mathematical proof.

Emma sniffed and looked at her. “Seriously, that’s not making me feel better.”

“Why on earth would I be trying to make you feel better? You’re going to fail at parenting and ruin our child.” Regina reached into the pocket of her coat, pulled out an apple that could not possibly have been in there, and took a bite.

“Well, I’m not going to _ruin_ her!” Emma wailed, not noticing right away that the corner of Regina’s mouth was twitching as she chewed. When she saw that she was being teased, she sighed, exasperated. “You can be a real bitch, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” Regina replied, offering her the apple. Emma looked at it, then back at her, raising an eyebrow. Regina shrugged and took another bite herself. “You will, though,” she said, once she’d swallowed. “Just like with Henry. Sometimes, you’ll do the wrong thing. And you can sit around wondering why you did it and how you could have been so foolish or you can figure out what the next thing is and try to get that one right.”

Emma sighed deeply. “I know. I just get scared.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Regina promised.

Emma eyed the apple in Regina’s hand. “Got anything else in that pocket? Not an apple,” she added quickly. Regina thought for a moment, trying to remember if she knew how to do anything other than apples. Then she smiled and closed her eyes, concentrating as she reached into her pocket and produced a peach, soft and ripe and as warm as if it had been sitting in the afternoon sun.


	4. Purple

Regina’s afternoon walk in the woods brought her back up through the garden behind the house. She surveyed the carefully cultivated landscape. It was still just a little too early for roses, and the chilly nights were hard on them, but Henry said they were his favorite—though, considering how many he cut for his friend Ava, Regina suspected it was she who had the preference. She let her fingertips brush against the bushes as she passed, the fading blooms springing back to full blush as she did so. 

Once she was inside, the acrid smell of paint drew her upstairs. Emma had been poring over paint chips for weeks, and although Regina had pointed out that she could paint the nursery in about three seconds and still leave room for Emma to change her mind, Emma had insisted that she wanted to do things the hard way. “It’s fun, Regina. Like the stuff in the woods is fun for you.”

She stood in the doorway of what had, until that morning, been the spare bedroom. The box fan whirring near the open window had drowned out the sound of her approach, so she was able to watch the scene for a moment without anyone noticing.

A barefoot Henry, clad in sweatpants and an old baseball t-shirt, was perched on a step ladder in the middle of the room, chattering about some new video game he’d become enthralled with. David was nodding absently but clearly just letting Henry riff while he focused on rolling soft purple paint onto the near wall. Emma and her mother were giggling about something, lost in their own conversation as they stenciled silver accents between the two windows. When Snow leaned over to address Emma’s belly, Regina couldn’t bear to watch any more.

Emma turned just in time to see Regina’s back as she slipped away. “Shit,” she breathed. She made a move to put down her paintbrush and follow Regina, but Snow stopped her.

“Let me,” she suggested. “Please.” Emma frowned, uncertain, but finally nodded her assent.

Regina retreated into her study, still the one part of the house that Emma hadn’t managed to make her own. It gnawed at her, having Snow in her home. Regina wished she could still hate her. But when Rumplestiltskin had retreated and the fighting had stopped, it was Snow who suggested that Regina be sent home to her son. And when Emma had decided that she was moving into the Mifflin street house with them, Snow was the first to support that decision, even before David. It nearly killed her to admit it, even to herself, but everything good that she had—her lover, her son, the shards of her life that she’d been allowed to keep—it had all come from Snow.

It was Emma who had planted that idea, because Emma had inherited many things from her mother, including the seemingly incessant need to verbalize every thought as it occurred to her. At first, it had made her want to strike, to hurt Snow just a little bit more, to win. But the sharp mixture of fury and regret that Snow brought up in her had dulled as her newly rearranged world settled into a familiar pattern. It was only Snow coming into her home that threatened to upset the tenuous peace between them.

She found some new paperwork left on her desk and, grateful for the distraction from the uncanny domestic scene upstairs, she settled onto the couch to look it over. When the soft rap on the door came, she assumed it was Henry and called, “Come in, dear,” without looking up.

“We settled on a color.” At the sound of Snow’s voice, Regina froze, allowing only her eyes to turn toward the doorway where Snow hovered.

“Yes, I saw.” Regina, after months of only Emma and Henry for company, had grown lazy about letting her emotions play out across her face, and she knew it. She clenched her jaw and tried to look engrossed in the file in her hand, sending a silent prayer to every god she could remember that the woman would take the hint and leave.

“Henry chose it, in the end. He said you’d like it.” Snow moved deeper into the room as she spoke.

“I do.”

“Good. That’s good.” The practiced effulgence was Miss Mary Margaret Blanchard all over. “We’re almost done, but you could come help—“

“No.”

“All right.” Snow took a breath as if to say more, but then snapped her mouth closed and turned to go. Her hand was on the door knob when she changed her mind again, coming back to perch on the edge of the chair across from Regina. She spoke haltingly. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Regina sighed and closed the file, giving up on the hope that she might avoid this conversation any longer. “Why? And don’t tell me it’s because Emma asked you to. I’d believe that from David, but you?”

The corner of Snow’s mouth quirked in acknowledgement of the fact that her husband was indeed wildly indulgent of his daughter, much as Snow’s own father had been. Much as Regina’s father had been, come to that. “A father gives you what you ask for,” Snow recited. “A mother knows what you need.” She plucked an apple from the bowl on the table and turned it in her hands. “That never meant what I thought, did it?”

Regina pressed two fingers to her temple. It was Snow holding the apple more than Cora’s old expression that brought back the memory. She heard her younger self repeat the dictum, almost as if remembering another person altogether. A girl with sparkling eyes and a flashing smile, not nearly old enough to really be anyone’s mother, producing apple after apple from her pocket like a party trick. One for Snow, the size of both of her fists. One for each of the horses. As if all that the smaller girl needed was an apple and a friend. “I imagine not, dear. Not to her. And not to me, then, although I let you believe what you would.”

“And with Henry?”

“Henry’s different,” Regina replied wearily. “I had to be mother and father to Henry.”

 “And what would you give him, to make him happy, to keep him safe?”

“Anything,” Regina snapped, as though someone had accused her of something.

Snow placed the apple back in the bowl. “Do you think I love Emma any less, just because you took her from me?”

“I never took her,” Regina argued. “You allowed yourself to be manipulated, but I had no part in that.”

Snow shook her head sadly. “Let’s not pretend there was a single moment when you intended to let me keep her, Regina.”

If the words _I forgive you_ came out of this woman’s mouth yet again, Regina thought she might actually, finally lose her mind. To accept one more thing from Snow White might be more humiliation than even her happiness was worth.

“And now you’ve had Henry,” Snow continued. “I saw him grow up, but you made sure I’d barely notice, and when I did, I didn’t know what I was seeing, did I?”

“You have him now.” Regina knew it was a weak point, but she made it anyway.

“Half grown and half yours,” replied Snow bitterly. “I get everything back in pieces.”

“My heart absolutely bleeds.” If Snow wanted to play who-lost-what with her, Regina would go ten rounds, but they both knew by now that it was pointless. There were no winners in that game.

“But this baby,” Snow said, a bit of brightness creeping back into her voice. “needs a family, Regina. And we’re going to be one. All of us.”

Regina raised an eyebrow, but she was beginning to get the feeling that Snow was here to ask for something, and that appealed to her. “Are we?” She held the eyes of the other woman and put out an open hand. The violet wisps were so fine that they were almost invisible as they wrapped around the apple Snow had held and drew it into Regina’s waiting palm. After a moment, Snow dropped her gaze. Regina would never quite stop being a queen, even if her realm only consisted of a single room in this house.

“Yes,” Snow said. “A whole family. With mothers and a brother and grandparents.”

The younger woman had obviously spent far too many years in the company of simple children. “I’m familiar with the concept,” Regina replied. “And what makes you think I would agree to be part of that?”

Snow looked like a little girl who’d solved a riddle. “Because I know that you want to give back what you took. And you can’t. Not to Emma, and not to me. But you can still give it to Henry. And this baby.”

“So I’m supposed to… what? Hold hands with you around her cradle and sing kumbayah?”

“Maybe we could just try being in the same room? Sharing a meal? Decorating your daughter’s nursery?”

Regina had been halfway to rolling her eyes when the words _your daughter_ brought her up short. No one had said that yet, not even Emma. But Snow clearly thought of the child that way.

“She needs you, Regina. She needs more than just you, but she needs you.”

Regina stood and crossed the room to her desk, passing the apple nervously between her hands. “I know what she needs.”

“Of course you do,” Snow agreed. “You’re her mother.”

Snow could not have known how familiar the words were, but Regina’s shock at hearing them made her squeeze the apple so tightly that it suddenly wasn’t there anymore. Her hand closed on itself, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her palm.

Snow pretended not to notice. “Come upstairs, Regina,” she asked plaintively.

“In a minute,” Regina said through gritted teeth.

Snow nodded and left her alone.

*****

When she finally did come out from the study, she passed David and Snow as they were carrying paint cans downstairs. David acknowledged her with a good-natured, “Regina,” and she squeezed his shoulder briefly as he passed. Snow simply gave her a small smile, which she returned.

When Henry saw her, his face lit up. “Mom! We painted the baby’s room!”

Regina pressed a kiss to the crown of her son’s head, noting sadly that he was nearly too tall for the gesture. “It looks wonderful, Henry. And I heard that you chose the color.” She brushed ineffectually at the bits of purple paint dried in his hair.

“It’s called Daybreak,” he informed her proudly.

Emma tugged at the shirttail peeking out from below Regina’s sweater, pulling her close enough to plant a kiss on her cheek. “You all right?” she asked in Regina’s ear, too low for Henry to hear.

“I’m fine,” Regina said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I think I’ll go and start dinner.”

“Already taken care of,” came David’s voice from the doorway. He held up the phone in his hand. “Pizza’s on its way.”

“Yes!” Henry pumped his fist in the air. He turned to his mothers. “If we’re having pizza, can I have soda with it?”

Regina was about to insist that he have milk, as usual, but Emma looked at her with almost as much excited anticipation as Henry, and their matching expressions made it impossible for her not to give in. “If you go and set the table,” she conceded.

“Awesome!”

David ruffled the boy’s hair as he passed, then stepped into the room. “Snow’s getting the crib ready to bring upstairs. I thought I’d put it together after dinner.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Emma answered.

His gaze flicked between the two women, and he shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll, uh, go keep Henry company,” he offered by way of explanation as he backed out of the room.

Emma turned in the center of the room, admiring her own work. “Well? What do you think?”

Regina slid an arm around Emma, resting a hand on the small of her back. “It’s perfect. Fit for a princess.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “Can we maybe hold off on the princess stuff? At least for a while?”

“Then what’s that?” Regina nodded at the silver design on the wall.

Emma shrugged. “Snow did it. It’s pretty, right?”

“It’s a crest,” Regina replied. She gestured to the elements as she explained. “The flowers, the chevron, they’re from your father’s heraldry. But the flame, here, and the swans. Those were mine.”

With Regina holding her close, Emma could feel the slight shudder of her ribcage with every exhalation. Emma had become a blubbering mess on a regular basis throughout her pregnancy, but she could count on one hand the total number of times she’d ever seen Regina actually cry. It was as if her body knew that it only had a limited number of tears and was trying to conserve them, so these quiet, ragged breaths were the only thing it could offer up.

Emma tilted her head as she asked, “Regina, aren’t you happy?”

Regina made a sound that was halfway between laughter and a sob. “I am so happy with you.”

“So what’s wrong?”

She thought of what her own mother would say: that this situation was perverse, that it was ridiculous, that Regina should be ashamed, that she’d degraded herself. But most of all, that if this was the life she chose, any happiness she might find in it was completely unmerited. “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve any of it.”

Emma considered that. “I think that the fact that you don’t think you deserve it is exactly why you do. You can’t undo what’s been done. But you would if you could. That’s the person you are now.”

 “That’s not what I—“ Regina shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Emma stilled her with a hand against her cheek. “I do.”

Regina’s breathing had steadied somewhat, and now she narrowed her eyes. “You sound like your mother.”

“Yeah, well,” Emma hitched one shoulder. “We talk a lot.”

“About me?”

“About everything.”

“Just so we’re clear,” Regina started, and then stopped, suddenly unsure of her ability to say what she was thinking in a way that Emma would understand.

“What?”

“I wouldn’t undo all of it.” When Emma’s face faltered, she scrambled to explain. “I only mean that I have you and I have Henry.” She rested a hand on the swell of Emma’s belly. “Our family. I wouldn’t change that.”

Emma gave her a grin and a kiss on the mouth for that. “You don’t have to. Just try to get the next thing right, right?”

Regina was about to say something more when she was interrupted by Henry calling their names. “The table’s—ew.” They turned to see their son stopped short in the doorway, making a face at them. “Are you guys kissing?”

Regina said “No” at the same time that Emma said “Yes,” and Henry groaned. “Gross. David wants to know if he should make a salad,” he said, his tone suggesting that he found the idea of salad about as appealing as watching his mothers kiss.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Emma told him. His shoulders dipped a bit in resignation, and Emma gripped them and spun him around, marching him out into the hallway. “Come on, kid, let’s go help him. Maybe we can find something good to put in. Bacon bits or something. You coming?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Of course,” Regina replied, stealing one more look at the painting on the wall before turning out the nursery light.


	5. Pink

Regina sat bolt upright in bed, straining to hear whatever it was that woke her. The bedroom was dark and warm, so she didn’t notice the empty space beside her until she heard it again: Emma softly calling her name from the master bath.

She pushed the door open, squinting against the full light of the bathroom. “Emma?” Emma was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the side of the bathtub and looking up at her.

“I was trying not to wake Henry,” Emma explained weakly. “I can’t get up.”

“Well, what the hell are you doing down there?” Regina demanded, bending to help Emma stand up.

“As it turns out,” she sighed, steadying herself on her feet, “having contractions.”

Regina’s eyes widened in alarm. “Contractions? For how long?”

Emma looked at the ceiling as though she thought the answer might be written up there. “Um… most of today?”

“Emma Swan! Why didn’t you say anything?” Regina didn’t wait for an answer. She left Emma leaning against the sink to retrieve the overnight bag from their closet.

“No point. If you go to the hospital too early they just send you home. And then I’d get to spend the rest of the day cooped up with a nervous wreck.”

“I am not nervous! Where are your shoes?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “No, you’re totally calm,” she said, too low for Regina to hear. Then, raising her voice just a bit, “I need my phone first.”

Regina reappeared in the bathroom doorway, holding up Emma’s phone with one hand and a pair of running shoes dangling from the fingers of the other.

“Phone first,” Emma repeated, reaching for it. “We have plenty of time for me to put on shoes, I promise.”

*****

Emma had called the doctor and then her parents. David was going to stay with Henry while Snow went to the hospital with them. Regina paced the kitchen while Emma slowly chewed on a sandwich.

“I can’t believe you’ve lived with Henry for twelve years and never had a fluffernutter. You sure you don’t want one?” Emma asked, waving the sandwich at Regina as if it were enticing.

Regina eyed the ridiculously-named sandwich suspiciously. “It’s barely food. You shouldn’t even be eating that. If you weren’t about to have a baby, I’d take it away from you.”

“If I weren’t about to have a baby, I’d like to see you try,” Emma replied, then grimaced as the force of a contraction washed over her. Regina was at her side in an instant, letting Emma squeeze her hand until it passed. When Emma could talk again, she said, “You know what would really help me?”

“No,” Regina said firmly.

“Magic,” Emma gratuitously answered her own question.

“ _No_ ,” Regina said again. As she frequently was, Regina was grateful that she’d never voiced her suspicions that Emma harbored some latent magical capabilities. She might have been right, and Emma was reckless and a little bit lazy, traits that would be disastrous when combined with magic. As it was, Emma had spent the last month of her pregnancy testing the limits of what Regina could and would do for her. Seeing the blonde struggling to navigate her newly-outsized body had made Regina indulgent, but she had insisted that there would be no magic used around the baby, by her or anyone else. Regina decided that she had better start enforcing that now rather than later. “Where are your parents?” she hissed impatiently.

As if they’d been waiting for her to ask, there was a soft knock at the front door.

David was half-asleep, but Snow was brimming with alacrity. She spotted the overnight bag waiting by the door and slung it over her shoulder. “Ready?” She looked with mild disapproval at her daughter, who had paused in the doorway from the kitchen to have another contraction. “Emma, we have to go. Where are your shoes?”

Regina slipped into her study, where it took her a minute to find the purse she hadn’t had use for in over a year. The weight of it felt strange as she walked to the front door. 

David caught her elbow as she passed. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he assured her. “I’ll bring Henry to meet his sister tomorrow.” She glanced out the open front door to where Snow was helping Emma into the car. Certain that neither of them would look back, she reached up to pull David into a quick hug.

“Thank you,” she murmured over his shoulder.

*****

The light from the sunrise streaming through the window turned the whole room rosy just as she made her way into the world.

Emma held her first, of course. The doctor placed her, wet and pink and squalling and wrapped in a towel, on Emma’s chest. The first thing Regina saw was the hair. A thick, black shock of it sticking up in all directions, so very different from the blond fuzz that had tickled her face the first time she held Henry. As Emma held her close, she stilled, and then turned her head and slowly opened her eyes. 

Regina expected to see the dull no-color eyes typical of newborns, but instead the child’s eyes were shining as dark as her own. She held out one finger and drew it in a soft line down the baby’s cheek, startled when the little face turned toward the touch. For a moment, she forgot everyone else in the room, even Emma. 

“She’s perfect,” Snow’s voice from the opposite bedside broke the spell, and then a nurse gently but insistently moved in to take the baby away, murmuring something about a bath and blood draws and tests. Snow drifted out into the hallway to call David.

Emma reached for Regina’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “She is beautiful,” Regina told her softly.

“Vain,” Emma replied, and if it was an accusation, it was not without humor. “She looks exactly like you.”

“Not exactly,” Regina denied, although she couldn’t stop smiling at the truth of it. “I think she had your chin.”

“Mm,” Emma hummed her disagreement, eyes already fluttering with exhaustion. “Henry does, but this one’s all you. Maybe next time you’ll do some of the work.”

“Next time,” Regina echoed as Emma slipped into sleeping. “You’re dreaming, Princess.”

*****

Emma was still asleep when the nurse returned with the baby, swaddled and sweet-smelling, and offered her to Snow.

Snow frowned and stepped back. “Give her to her mother.”

Regina stiffened.

“The princess—” the nurse began to object.

“Is sleeping,” Snow interrupted. “Give her to her mother.”

“Her—“ the nurse’s gaze flicked to Regina’s face, then immediately fell. “Yes, of course.” She managed to settle the baby into Regina’s arms without raising her eyes once. Regina half-expected her to curtsy before scurrying from the room.

The child stirred against her, thrusting one tiny arm out and waving it before resting it against her own face. She did look remarkably like Regina. Anyone would be hard-pressed to deny that the child was hers, which both thrilled and terrified her. She hadn’t realized that even she still wasn’t sure until she felt the doubt leave her like so much ballast.

But Snow had always been sure.

“Do you just believe everything you’re told?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Snow start at being spoken to.

“I’m sorry?”

“You just believed she was mine because Emma told you it was so?” It wouldn’t surprise her if that were the case. Henry’s remarkable capacity for blind faith certainly hadn’t been learned from her.

“I had no reason to doubt it. And one very good reason to believe it.”

Regina tore her eyes away from her daughter, then, to search Snow’s face. “You knew the other child. When this happened before.”

Snow frowned deeply. “Didn’t you know?” Regina said nothing, only stared at her expectantly. “But I thought… Regina, the other child was Emma. It’s Emma.”

It was hard for Regina to remember, sometimes, who was mother and who was daughter and to whom and how. She supposed this baby only served to tangle that web further. But it was frustrating, now that everyone knew the truth, to find that three decades of knowing hadn’t turned out to be an advantage at all. There were still so many things she found incomprehensible.

She knew, of course, that Snow had been pregnant at her wedding. Regina was not a fool, nor was she so incompetent that it would take her nearly a year to cast a curse. She had simply never given the matter much thought. Now that she did, she couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of proud, self-righteous little Snow finding herself impossibly pregnant. Snow, for her part, was blushing furiously.

“That answers some questions,” she said, looking down at the girl in her arms. For one thing, it made sense, now, how easily Rumplestiltskin had given up the story, even after she’d refused to deal with him. He’d intended to rub her face in yet another example of Snow and Charming’s storied love, not realizing that he was confirming what Regina had only dared to suspect—that she was living in a love story of her own.

*****

David and Henry came bearing flowers and balloons and a big paper bag full of Chinese food. Henry nearly knocked Regina over with the force of his hug, but he approached Emma’s bed with much more caution. Trying to contain himself, he bounced on the balls of his feet with excitement as he hovered over Emma and his sister. “David said maybe I could hold her while you eat. Can I?”

Emma grinned at his enthusiasm and shot a quick glance at Regina before nodding. “You have to sit down, kid.”

At first, Henry held the baby stiffly, unsure of how fragile she actually was. While the adults passed around cartons of cashew chicken and fried rice, he stared down at her intently. “Emma?” he asked slowly. “Did you give her a name yet?”

“Your mom says we should call her Alice,” Emma replied. “What do you think?”

“Alice,” he tried. “Hello, Alice.” She slowly opened her eyes and a grin lit up his face. “I’m Henry. I’m your brother.”

Emma nodded occasionally as she ate, pretending to listen to the conversation going on around her, but her eyes were fixed on her children. As Henry relaxed, he began to speak to his sister earnestly, eager for the chance to share his secrets of navigating the world with someone else. Emma strained to catch snippets of what he was saying. “You’re a real princess, and it’s sort of a secret but it’s still really cool… Mom is the best cook, but Emma makes better hot chocolate… If you want to go somewhere, you have to ask Emma first, she’ll get Mom to let you… If your stomach hurts, tell Mom. She has this secret… Mom built you your own castle in our woods, but when you get bigger, I’ll show you my castle by the beach.”

*****

When they were finally able to persuade Henry to go home with his grandparents, the quiet in the room was thick. “I should go, too,” Regina said, making no effort to move from the rocking chair where she was curled. “I need a shower.”

“Don’t leave yet,” Emma said, smoothing the dark hair on the little head resting on her chest. “Stay with us for a little longer.”

Regina didn’t argue, content to sit with Emma and listen to the soft snuffling sounds of their daughter. For years, she’d tried to keep count in her head of the lives she’d saved and the lives she’d taken, trying desperately to make it come out even. If only she could get the balance right, she had been sure, the noise in her head would quiet and she could be happy. She hadn’t realized that it was the other way around; it was the happiness that would drown out the noise.


	6. Gold

 “She’s awake.”

Emma rolled over and groaned into her pillow. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Well, she’s awake,” Regina insisted. Emma groaned again, but she dragged herself out of bed anyway. She didn’t know why she bothered protesting. Regina did this every morning, and she’d never once been wrong. Emma wasn’t really clear on whether it was magic or just that weird mommy-spidey-sense Regina seemed to have in spades, but she was better than a baby monitor.

Sure enough, when Emma padded into the nursery, Alice was sitting up in her crib, sucking at the ear of her teddy bear and watching for Emma with wide, dark eyes. When she saw her mother, she began babbling, not stopping even as Emma lifted her onto her hip. “Good morning, Alice,” she murmured in the baby’s ear. “Happy birthday.”

*****

Emma woke up when she felt someone lifting her legs. Regina lowered herself onto the couch and settled Emma’s feet into her lap. Emma inhaled deeply and started to stretch before she registered the warm little body across her chest. She opened her eyes to look blearily over Alice’s head at Regina. The living room was still pre-dawn grey. “Hey,” she rasped, her voice thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Still early. You didn’t come back to bed,” Regina whispered plaintively

“Yeah, you’re welcome for that. She was talkative this morning. I thought one of us should get some real sleep. Thought it was better if it was you.”

“Are you trying to tell me something?” Regina’s fingernail played lightly against Emma’s bare ankle, drawing soft figure-eights.

“Yup.” Emma drew the word out, teasing. “You’re a bitch when you’re sleep deprived.”

“Language,” Regina warned gently, nodding at Alice, who had opened her eyes and was looking up at Emma intently. “That won’t be cute when it’s coming out of her little mouth.”

“She doesn’t talk yet, Regina.”

“She will soon enough,” Regina replied primly. “And you’ll wish you’d developed better habits.”

Emma let out a tired sigh and stopped fighting to keep her eyes open. “Whatever.”

Regina smirked a little. _Whatever_ was Emma-speak for _you’re right but I’ll never admit it_. “You could have brought her back to bed with you. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“Excited?” Emma guessed. Snow and David had become something of regular fixtures in this house, but no one else had set foot inside the door since Regina’s house arrest. Today, if things went according to plan, that would change.

“That, and nervous,” Regina admitted, her eyes trained on the feet in her lap. She’d thrown herself into full hostess mode over the last few weeks, cleaning and decorating and making endless lists. Anything to keep herself from thinking about all the things that could go wrong when they invited people into their home. As much as the house had served as Regina’s prison, it was her sanctuary, too, and very much her kingdom. She’d been reluctant to agree to a party, but Emma had insisted that birthdays were part of the normal childhood she’d promised to give Alice, and Regina had no way to object to that.

“Hey,” Emma implored, nudging her toes against Regina’s stomach until the brunette met her eyes. “It’s going to be fine. Everyone who’s coming is coming for Alice, because they love her, okay?”

“Okay,” Regina agreed reluctantly. Emma had told her, many times, that Alice was adored, that the people of Storybrooke had embraced their tiny princess as much as they ever had their queen or their savior, but Regina still worried. She had no evidence of people’s loyalties other than Emma’s word, and as much as she trusted Emma, she knew the blonde’s ability to spot dishonesty was clouded when it came to the people she loved.  Emma couldn’t conceive of someone not finding her daughter miraculous, but Regina saw so much of herself in Alice, and she knew others would see it, too.

“Regina.” Emma’s voice drew her out of her own thoughts. “They do love her. You’ll see. And they’re going to see you the way she sees you. The way I see you. This is going to be good for us.”

“And how do you see me?” Regina asked.

“As Regina,” Emma replied simply. “Just Regina. Not as a—you’re a good mother. You’re a good woman. And you deserve to be loved.”

“I doubt very much that anyone is going to see all of that,” Regina replied with a wan smile. “But I’m glad that you do.”

Emma beamed at her warmly, the sparkle in her eyes making Regina’s heart swell. “So, Martha Stewart. What’s left to get ready for this party?”

Regina thought for a moment. “The food. Your father’s bringing extra chairs.” Her face changed suddenly, remembering something. “I finished wrapping presents last night.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Emma said. She had peeked into the dining room when she’d brought Alice downstairs. Regina loved to accuse her of spoiling the kids, but she was positive there were at least twice as many of those pink and gold packages as there had been the last time she checked. She never should have let Henry teach his mom about online shopping. “Please tell me those aren’t all going to show up on the credit card statement.”

Regina simply shrugged. “It’s her first birthday. You can’t begrudge her a few extra gifts.”

Emma rolled her eyes. Regina was clearly working with a loose definition of the word _few_. “I’m not begrudging _her_ , I’m begrudging _you_.”

“Well, they’re not all for her. One of them is for you.”

“For me?” Emma’s eyes lit up. She’d never particularly been excited by gifts, having gotten so few of them, but Regina loved giving them, and she had a knack for choosing exactly the right thing that Emma found utterly charming.

Regina smiled, pleased that she’d been able to surprise Emma. “I was going to wait, but then I hoped you might it wear it today.”

Emma scrunched her face up. “I already promised you I’d wear a dress, Regina. At least let me pick it out.”

“It’s not a dress,” Regina answered patiently. “Oh, well, if you don’t want it…”

Emma considered calling Regina’s bluff for no other reason than to see what she’d do, but curiosity and greed got the better of her. “No, where is it?”

Regina reached for her daughter. “Come on, baby girl, let’s go find Mama’s present.”

Emma drew her feet up under her as she sat up, waiting. After a moment, Regina came back from the dining room with a package wrapped in shimmery blue paper. Emma reached for it eagerly, and Regina sat back down beside her, watching closely as she unwrapped it. Inside was a small wooden box, intricately carved.

“It’s a jewelry box,” Emma said, trying to keep the edge of dismay out of her voice. Admittedly, it was beautiful, but it seemed more like something her mother would have than something Regina would pick for her.

“Oh, that’s not the gift,” Regina said, with wave of her hand. “Open it.”

Emma did, and inside found a gold ring, set with a small diamond. “Oh,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

“You can have it on one condition.”

Emma looked up sharply, narrowing her eyes. “What’s the condition?”

“It’s an engagement ring.”

Emma shook her head, wondering briefly if she’d misunderstood. “Sorry, it’s what?”

“An engagement ring,” Regina repeated. “You can wear it on the condition that you marry me.”

“You want to get married?” Marrying Regina had honestly never crossed Emma’s mind. It seemed almost unnecessary, somehow, when there was simply no future that Emma could see without Regina in it. 

“I want…” Regina’s mouth worked as she tried to find the words. “I want something permanent. Something that says you and I are permanent.”

“We have Alice,” Emma pointed out. “And Henry. That’s pretty permanent, Regina.”

“That’s true. But you and me, that’s not just about Henry and Alice, is it?” Regina’s voice had suddenly done that going-small thing it did sometimes. Emma knew that meant she was only half-present in the moment, that her mind was drifting toward things that had happened in another life.

Emma took her hand, pulling her back. “You know it’s not.”

Regina smoothed her free hand over Alice’s dark head and pressed an absent-minded kiss to it. “I love our family. But I want something that’s just about the two of us.”

“You really want to marry me?”

“Very much.”

Emma lifted a hand to Regina’s face, pulling her close to give her a soft kiss over their daughter’s head. If Regina wanted a promise of what Emma already knew to be true, it seemed like such a small thing to give. “Well, all right, then.”

*****

Emma leaned against the marble counter, watching Regina bend over neat rows of cupcakes, carefully piping pink frosting onto each one. It had taken a long time for Regina to begin baking again, and Emma enjoyed getting the chance to watch her do something she so clearly enjoyed. “These look amazing.”

Regina glanced up just in time to see Emma swipe a finger through the frosting on the cupcake closest to her and grabbed her wrist before she could stick the finger in her mouth. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Um, taste testing?” Emma tried.

“They taste as good as they look, and you know it,” Regina snapped, but her eyes were crinkling around the edges. She considered Emma’s hand for a moment before pulling the pink-frosted finger to her own mouth and licking it clean. Her eyebrows lifted in approval of her own work. “And you can wait like everybody else.”

Emma made a face at her. “Control freak.”

“Hedonist,” Regina shot back with a grin.

“Morning,” Henry announced his presence as he came into the kitchen. His eyes lit immediately on the cupcakes. “Hey, that one’s messed up. Can I have it for breakfast?”

“ _No_ ,” both of his mothers replied in unison. Regina picked up her pastry bag to repair the damage, and Emma wrapped a consoling arm around her son’s shoulders. “Cheerios are on the table, kid,” she told him.

“Fine,” Henry sighed, and then he caught sight of Emma’s hand on his shoulder. Excitedly, he turned, not to Emma, but to Regina. “You asked her already?”

“I did,” Regina replied with a small smile. “And she said yes.”

“Yes!” Henry pumped his fist before wrapping his arms tightly around Emma’s middle. “I knew it!”

“Kid,” Emma grunted. “I need to breathe.”

He let her go and turned to pull a cereal bowl down from the cupboard. “So awesome,” he said, grinning widely.

The doorbell rang, echoed by a squeal from Alice. On her way to answer it, Emma stopped to lift the baby out of the highchair. She opened the front door to find her parents standing there, and when Alice gave a little wave, the biggest smile Emma had ever seen spread across Snow’s face. While David edged past them with his arms full of another half-dozen gifts, Snow pressed kisses to the cheeks of her daughter and granddaughter.

“What’s this?” Emma tapped an accusatory fingernail against the large red and white button pinned to her mother’s cardigan. Three decades with the concept of democracy had not been lost on the people of Storybrooke, and while Regina counted that as a point of pride, a way she’d made people’s lives better, Emma really didn’t think it was necessary to remind her that Snow was now running for the office Regina had held for so long. The sound of grinding teeth drove Emma crazy.

“Sorry.” Snow unfastened the pin and dropped it into her pocket. “I had a breakfast thing.”

“This is my kid’s birthday, not a campaign event, okay?” 

“Of course,” Snow agreed, reaching to pull Alice into her own arms. “This is a family thing. I’m just here as—Emma!“ She grabbed Emma’s left hand. “What’s _this_?”

Emma smiled sheepishly. “Um, a ring. From Regina.” She bit her lip, waiting for a reaction.

Snow simply tilted her head as she examined the ring, raising one eyebrow. “It’s lovely. Although I did think she was going to wait.”

Emma’s brow creased. “She told you?” Snow and Regina were civil, even occasionally kind when their shared adoration of the children made them forget themselves, but Emma didn’t think they ever spoke privately.

“Oh, Emma,” Snow said, amused. “You’re marrying a traditional woman. She asked permission.”

“And you gave it,” Emma said, and it was not a question. She was a little embarrassed at the emotion welling in her throat. She supposed in another life she might feel insulted by people talking about her life as if it was theirs to give and take, but she had never imagined that she would feel so much like she belonged to so many people.

“She’s your true love,” Snow said, with that constant note of deep assurance. “And she asked us, Emma. Do you know how hard that was for her to do?”

Emma nodded slowly. Of course she knew, now, of how Regina had learned never to ask for the things she wanted, how disappointment and loss had turned her heart inside out until the only way she knew how to go through life was by grasping desperately at anything she thought might make her happy. Asking meant being ready to be refused. And, Emma realized now, asking, for Regina, meant trusting that she would not be.

“My precious girl,” Snow said. “We knew you’d say yes. How could we say no?”

*****

Regina held Alice in front of her. Not slung on her hip, not draped over her shoulder, but in front of her, facing out. Emma couldn’t tell if the baby was meant to be a shield or a peace offering. Either way, it seemed to work. Emma hung back, leaning in the archway between the living room and the foyer and watching as people approached the pair easily, even warmly. Alice grinned and babbled back at the people who fussed over her, energized by the attention. For her part, Regina looked happy to disappear into the role of proud mother.

Ruby spotted Emma from across the room and flashed her a wide smile. Emma re-crossed her arms, tucking her left hand into her elbow as Ruby weaved her way through the small clusters of guests. She hadn’t wanted to take the ring off, but she wasn’t quite ready to really show it off, either.

Ruby sidled up to her, bumping shoulders with her affectionately. “Emma! Nice dress.”

Emma glanced down at the sweet blue dress Snow had talked her into borrowing. It was a bit too short and made her feel like a six-year-old trying to wear last summer’s clothes, but the look on Regina’s face when Emma had come down the stairs wearing it had almost been worth how silly she felt now. “It’s my mom’s,” she said apologetically. 

Ruby rolled her eyes. Snow was her best friend, but it was no secret that Ruby thought her sense of style left something to be desired. “No kidding. When you pick your wedding dress, you’ve gotta let me help you, okay?”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “My wedding dress?”

“Oh, come on,” Ruby said with a knowing smile. “You didn’t really think you were hiding that rock, did you?”

Emma shrugged, rubbing her thumb along the gold band. “I was trying to let Alice have her day.”

“She is,” Ruby assured her. “You can still let people congratulate you, Em.”

“I wasn’t sure anyone would want to. You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“Marrying Regina? Oh, I definitely think you’re crazy.” Emma tried not to flinch at that, and Ruby smiled indulgently. “But since when does that mean you shouldn’t do it? If Emma Swan didn’t do something crazy once in a while, I don’t think any of us would even be here. Especially not that kid. And she’s great.”

Emma couldn’t help but grin. Ruby didn’t even like babies. She tended to eye them warily from a safe enough distance that no one would suggest she hold them. But she loved Alice.

“So I say go for it,” Ruby continued. “I just want a front row seat.”

Emma wrapped an arm around her friend's waist and hugged her. “I’m so glad you’re here, Rubes. You really are the best.”

Ruby winked cheekily. “I know.”

*****

She found Henry in the study, sitting on the floor next to the coffee table, bent intently over a thick leather-bound book. This was not the book her son had carried like a talisman in the first months that she knew him. This was a new book, similar but for the title embossed on the cover and the blank pages within. Henry had nearly filled the book with his accounts of people in Storybrooke finding the happy endings they’d been denied for so long. Emma had read most of it, and as much as she adored him, Henry’s prose was nothing special. Where he really shone was the illustrations. With some gentle encouragement in that direction, his work had begun to resemble a comic book more than a story book.

“Hey, kid,” she said from the doorway. “You’re missing the party.”

“I’m not missing it,” he argued. “I’m remembering it.”

“Working on your book?” She came to crouch beside him, looking over his shoulder at the page where he was sketching a detailed picture of the party. At the center of it was a laughing Regina holding Alice, with Emma and Henry smiling on either side of her.

“If I don’t get it down right away, sometimes I start to forget things. And the ending is the most important part.”

“The ending?” He’d never mentioned an ending before.

Henry nodded, still drawing. “I think I’m almost done, Emma. If the Queen and the Savior get married, that’s the last happy ending.” He’d all but dropped the epithets for his mothers, except in the book, and the queen hadn’t been “evil” for a very long time. Emma was glad for that, but she suddenly realized that the day might come when she would miss hearing herself called the Savior, even if she never really did feel like one. She had wished so often for him to outgrow his childish obstinacy, but now she wished that he wouldn’t grow up quite so fast. 

 “What are you going to do when it’s done?”

His pencil stilled as he thought for a moment. “Color it in, I guess. Mom said you’d get me some paints.”

 “That’s a good idea,” she told him, ruffling his hair gently. She ran a finger over the faces in his drawing, careful not to smudge the lines. “I think this is my favorite one.”

He tapped the end of the pencil against the page. “Ma, do I look like you?”

“What?” She looked up from the book, startled by the non-sequitur.

“Alice looks like Mom. Everyone looks at her and just knows she’s Mom’s kid. Which is weird, because you’re the one who had her.”

“Henry…” Emma’s stomach was already churning at the thought of the one horribly awkward conversation they’d had about how, exactly, Emma could be pregnant.

“I know, magic.” He rolled his eyes— _that_ was Emma all over—and it was clear that he didn’t want to revisit that subject any more than she did. “But do I look like you?”

She glanced back down at his drawing, surprised that he couldn’t seem to see the shared features he could render so well. “Well, it’s different. You’re a boy. But, yeah, I can see me in you. And I can see your grandpa sometimes.”

“No one else?” Henry, in an uncharacteristically shy gesture, dropped his eyes. It was the reticence that let her know what he was getting at.

“You mean your dad?” Henry nodded. “Sure. Sometimes. Henry, I know you know things were a mess with your dad. But I also liked him. A lot. And every time I notice him in you, it’s really easy for me to remember why.”

“Really?” He looked up at her then, trying to channel Emma’s superpower. She’d lied to him before to keep him from feeling bad about his dad, and he wanted to be sure that this was true.

“Really. I like it, actually.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek, and she could see the thought coming together behind his eyes. “You think maybe Alice does that, too? For Mom? You think Alice helps people remember the good stuff about her?”

She thought of the way Regina had held Alice, the way she'd seemed to be presenting the child as though she were proof of something. Which, when Emma thought about it, she was. “Yeah, kid. I hope so.”

He nodded once, firmly, as if locking the idea into place. “Me, too.”

 “I think you’ve got enough here to remember, Henry. Come back to the party. You can help your sister open her presents.”

“Okay!” His eager grin was every bit her little boy.

He scrambled to his feet as she closed the book. She traced her fingers over the gilded letters on the cover, smiling to herself when the gesture let her catch the sparkle of the new ring on her finger. She had rolled her eyes at the title when August had presented Henry with the book, but now that she knew how it ended, she thought it was kind of perfect:

_ Happily Ever After _


End file.
